


Come Undone

by Roar_Ra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3796213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roar_Ra/pseuds/Roar_Ra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's head tilts in puzzlement, them blinks as though looking inward for answers.  After a moment a smirk appears that makes Dean queasy.  "You don't know do you?"  Sam's fox sharp eyes, map his brother’s bare torso, blade ghosting over his abs, just this side of a caress.</p>
<p>"Fuck off."</p>
<p>Sam's fingers tap lightly on his forehead.  "Oh Dean, the secrets your little brother keeps from you…"  Soft tutting sound, as the caressing blade goes deeper, drawing blood.  "The secrets you've kept from each other - I see them all in his head."</p>
<p>"Lies, denial and whiskey.  Winchester way of life."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Undone

Come Undone

 

When a demon possesses Sam and tortures Dean, dark secrets and blood are spilled.

 

 

NOW:

Straightforward case, four couples, no history of mental illness or emotional instability visit a county fair. They hold hands, ride the rides, win prizes and visit the tunnel of love… And then, by the end of the day… One of them ends up dead, and the other in a mental ward covered in their lover’s blood.

The crime scene photos aren't pretty, the poor bastards who managed to survive had been working over their loved ones over for hours… whips, knives, chains and whatever else was available - don't even ask about the folks who collected precious moments crap - Dean knows he's not going be able to un see that one.

In Dean's mind their first stop in the investigation is obvious, what better way to check for clues (and torment your little brother) than talking your way onto a swan boat. He could just flash their badges and get by… but what fun would that be?

"Excuse me sir, my partner Agent Higgs, he's a HUGE fan of swan boats. I know it's silly, but he's such a goofy romantic."

Sam gives a sudden sneeze that sounds a lot like "IHATEYOUMAN"

Deans smile only widens. "And it's his birthday, so could we take a look around?"

The swan boat operator quirks and eyebrow, but let's them through.

 

________

 

So now here they are surrounded by stupid swan boats in the maintenance basement, which Sam is now beginning to think are replacing clowns as creepiest carnival items ever.

It's too bad Dean was distracted by the EMF readings, and even a little more distracted wondering about the logistics of getting a girl in a prone position in one of those boats… 

Otherwise he might have seen a very thin line of purple smoke hit Sam in the chest from across the room. 

Otherwise he might have noticed Sam's eyes go violet.

Otherwise he might have paid more attention when Sam approached him from behind with a piece of rebar.

It's too bad. But he didn't.

 

_______________

 

Dean groans as he comes to. Feels like he’s been hit by a fucking tire iron.

Looking around he sees Sam – or, correction - Dean looks at something wearing a Sam suit, purple eyes glowing, holding a metal pipe. 

Well that explains that.

He takes a quick inventory: Shirt gone, arms immobilized, strung up with heavy iron chains looped around a hook. Feet unsecured, to the floor, but chained together. He tests the bonds, nope, not going anywhere. Fuck.

"Good morning, sunshine." Cold eyes glitter, hard and cruel. "Look at what I caught today, a couple of hunters… and what an interesting pair."

"What, the hell are you?"

The smile isn't Sam's smile, but the similarity is painful to watch. "Consider me cupid's dark counterpart." The pipe is thrown across the room and Sam's form takes a grandiose bow, "You see, I serve a glorious purpose, instead of bringing people together, creating connections-" Sam pulls out the demon knife. "I pull them apart. I destroy lovers."

Sam's body circles Dean's, a cat playing with a crippled mouse, smiling that terrible smile. A promise of dark things to come. "Every truly great love story ends in tragedy, wouldn't you agree? I mean, come on - those teenaged emo twits Romeo and Juliette are just doing 'Twilight' in iambic pentameter until they committed suicide… Death... now THAT is what made the story immortal."

God this guy is pissing him off already. Another douche with delusions of grander who wants to monolog him to death. "So why are we still breathing asshat, we're not really your cup of tea."

Sam's head tilts in puzzlement, them blinks as though looking inward for answers. After a moment a smirk appears that makes Dean queasy. "You don't know do you?" Sam's fox sharp eyes, map his brother’s bare torso, blade ghosting over his abs, just this side of a caress.

"Fuck off."

Sam's fingers tap lightly on his forehead. "Oh Dean, the secrets your little brother keeps from you…" Soft tutting sound, as the caressing blade goes deeper, drawing blood. "The secrets you've kept from each other - I see them all in his head."

"Lies, denial and whiskey. Winchester way of life." 

Dean wished the bravado in his words weren't interrupted by a hiss of pain as the knife winds its way down his side, leaving long tracks of red in it's wake.

Sam's body circles Dean. "He's in here you know, your baby brother… completely awake, screaming, begging, little Sammy would do anything to keep you from knowing his darkest secrets." The muscles of Sam's abs ripple as he takes off his shirt, tossing the material carelessly aside. 

Dean closes his eyes, he doesn't need to know what his stupid overly muscled moose of a brother looks like when he's sweaty, half naked and possessed by cupid's evil bitch twin.

Dean’s attempt suppress a wimpier as Sam's naked flesh is pressed to his back might not be entirely successful. Sam's hand circles his neck like a vice and pulling him against him. Jesus fuck. 

Sam has never tried to intimidate Dean with his gigantor size, but whatever this fucking thing is, it has so such compunctions, looming over his bound big brother. 

"Do you know why Sam keeps running away?" The breath is hot in his ear.

Guilt and shame flood Dean. The answers are too many to list. Because Dean's nothing but a screwed up hunter and Sam wants white picket fences, because Sam doesn't need Dean as much as Dean needs him, because Dean held back secrets, because Sam doesn't trust Dean… because…. because…. because, he could go on for ages.

"All your little brother’s running… trying desperately for normal existence…." Sam tongue traces along Dean's shoulder, up his neck and bites down, hard. 

Dean shuts his eyes in pain and denial, he won't listen, can't. This will break him.

"It's all a lie." 

The viselike grip on his neck is released and Dean is about to sigh in relief when he hears the ominous snick of a leather belt coming out of this loops.

Fuck.

"Sam is going kind of crazy in here you know." The creature sing-songs. "He'd rather die than admit why he keeps trying to put distance between you two." 

Sam swings his arm like a pitcher loosening up before a game. Dean hears the whistle of leather before he feels it. Then an explosion of pain, making his world go white. 

"He's afraid you'll run away, never speak to him again."

Another lash, and from the wet sound, Dean knows this blow drew blood.

"Sam's afraid once you know the truth you’ll hate him for it…" Another strike, harder still, Dean chokes off a scream.

"Once you understand what a monster he truly is..." The belt falls again.

"A freak…" Again. "Perverted by blood… By lust… By YOU." Again.

Dean growls and nearly bites through his lip in pain, as he shakes his head. DemonsLieDemonsLieDemonsLie, if he can keep up the mantra he can block out the awful things coming from his brother's mouth.

Sam in suddenly in front of him, inches from his face. Expression surprisingly soft, which makes it even worse.

"Your poor little brother." He grab's Dean's belt loops and pulls him against Sam roughly, grinds into Dean's stomach and Dean gasps at the hardness. 

"Is so in love with you." A harsh kiss, forcing his tongue into Dean's mouth. 

"That it's killing him." Something in Dean breaks, and the unwilling tears he managed to keep back during the pain fall at the simple words.

Sam's kitten tongue licks the salt from his brother's cheeks. “So pretty when you cry… he’s always thought so.” The words are almost wistful as he kisses his way down Dean’s neck, taking the soft flesh in his teeth he bites down moaning with pleasure as the skin breaks and the smell of iron tang blood fills the room. Dean bites back a scream as his brother’s lips kiss and bite their way down his flesh, licking each belt mark on his way down. 

"Sam's greatest fear is that you'll despise him for wanting to touch you soooo badly." An evil chuckle. "Oh wait, my bad. You're such a GOOD big brother, Sam's greatest fear is that you'd LIE to him. Pretend to want him the way he wants you… let him do all the naughty things he dreamed about for years, and secretly hate it, secretly think he's a sick fuck, a monster, secretly hate him." 

Sam's cool finger traces along the cuts on Dean's torso, hands reaching down, unbuckling his pants. "It’s a reasonable fear. Because we all know you just can't say no to your little brother, can you?" 

Dean shutters as Sam's hand grips his traitorous cock, hardening to torturous proportions under oversized hands. "And I think, perhaps you don't want to." Dean turns his head in denial. 

"Liar. Fuck off, he's my brother, I'd never-." He wishes is didn't come out as such a breathy moan, wishes like hell he wasn't so royally fucked up that this was making his cock ache like never before.

The thing gives a puzzled huff. "You shouldn’t lie… lying is bad." 

The hand is removed from his cock and Dean isn't sure if the moan he gives is from relief or disappointment.

Sam's hands cup his face, making him meet the taller man's eyes, so close Dean can feel Sam's breath on his lips. The violet begins to swirl with black. "Veritas." 

Dean feels the heavy weight of the words, feels their power wrap around his throat like a vice.

"Now, let's try that again. And this time, no lies." Sam picks up the belt and begins circling. "Have you ever had less than brotherly thoughts about Sammy?"

No, nononono. "Yes." 

Dean really hates fucking truth spells, they go against the Winchester code of keeping shit to yourself unless the world is ending, and sometimes not even then.

"When exactly did you begin having lustful feelings for your brother. And remember, the devil is in the details, so I expect specifics."

He can't do this, Dean thinks desperately. He can just tell the monster wearing his brother to fuc-

"The summer Sam turned 16." Fuck! "We'd just come back from a hunt with dad. Sam had saved my ass back there, I don't think I'd ever seen dad so proud of him. Dad grabbed the cooler and threw me a beer, then tossed one to Sam. First time. When I looked him in that moment, tall, covered in sweat and blood… I watched the way the way his throat worked as he drank it down… watched the drops of condensation trail down his neck… it's wasn't a my kid brother anymore, it was just… Sam."

Man, that was way more than Dean wanted to say. "Satisfied, you sick fuck?"

Sam's dark chuckle tells him he's pleased with the answer. "That was fun, but now, let's talk about the first time you jerked off while thinking about your brother, and remember, let's not obfuscate or hold anything back."

"NO!" The words are torn from his mouth, a desperate plea. "Anything else, just please…"

Pain envelops his world as the belt hits squarely between his shoulders. "NOW."

"I tried not to." Dean looks pleading at Sam, begging the man behind the monster to forgive him for what he's about to say next. 

"I tried so hard not to think about you Sam, but it was like a switch had been flipped, and you were there, so close every day, your scent, your body, you’d reached your full height by then, but not filled out… needed so much fuel to keep up with that growth, I lived on half rations that year just trying to keep you fed." 

Shit, another little tidbit he didn't want Sammy to know, god damn, mother fucking truth spells.

"We were up at this cabin so crappy there wasn’t even indoor plumbing just a well and an outdoor shower, I was unpacking and dad was out for supplies, but Sam, the prissy lummox, went to take a shower. I didn't mean to watch, I swear to god I didn't… but once I caught a glimpse of Sam as I passed a window… naked under the spray, hands everywhere, I couldn't fucking help it. I came with my brothers' name on my lips in less than a minute." He can stop talking, that was the truth, that's enough, no more… not...

"What happened after that?"

"No-" Dean growls between gritted teeth.

Another lash, placed in the precise location of the last. "What happened as you came, gasping your brother's name, and covered in your own come?"

"And then… I turned around and saw dad in the doorway."

There is was. The secret he'd never, never, never wanted Sam to know. Dad knew about Dean's lust, his sickness, and he’d never forgiven him for it. 

Sam's laugh startles him from his self loathing tailspin. "My, my you Winchesters have enough fucked up family dynamics for a hundred soap operas, you know that?" The belt slides along Dean's cheek, a horrible caress leaving a line of dean's own blood down his cheek. "So what did your father do?"

"Dad sent Sammy to town for more ammo. Then he beat the hell outta me." 

Sam lips are wet with anticipation. "Tell me about it."

Dean groans, hell was a Disney movie compared to this. "He... He was angrier that I'd ever seen him, throwing furniture, screaming, called me a freak, a pervert. Demanded to know how I could even think of doing something like that to my teenaged brother. He said he should just take me out back and put me down like a rabid dog. He told me if I ever molested Sammy, even looked at him the wrong way again, he'd kill me and tell Sam I'd died on a hunt. He called it a mercy, letting Sam think I died in a blaze of glory, not ganked by my own father for being such a sick fuck."

"And then?"

"He… He told me to go sit on the bed, take of my shirt and hold onto the headboard, swearing that I was going to learn never to do that again..."

A surprisingly tender caress from Sam's large hand makes him jerk away. No, no tenderness, please. He can handle any torture, just not Sam acting like… well… Sam.

"It was a belt wasn't it?" Sam's voice sounds almost reverent. "He used a belt."

Dean hears a broken ragged sobbing breath, and realizes it's coming from him.

"Dad sent you – Sam out for supplies – told you he needed some herb from three states away… Then nearly beat me to death that day, he didn't stop for hours, just took breaks to rest his arm and get more beer."

Sam's lips ghost over the open wounds on his back, making Dean hiss with pain, and something darker he refuses to identify. "Poor big brother." A hand snakes down and finds his still hard cock. "Looks like that didn't get all the sickness out of your system, did it?" Dean closes his eyes in shame and denial. "If anything, I'd say it just fucked your head up even more."

Sound of a zipper, fabric moving, then Dean feels the hulking mass of his brother's body press fully against his back. A naked body that seems very happy to be there. 

"I love listening to your brother in this oversized meat suit, he cries so prettily, but it's the mix of rage and love that make such a sweet sauce. I honestly don't think I could have stumbled across a better pair if I'd scoured the earth."

Dean tries to pull away, his back on fire as the salt flesh presses to open wounds, soul screaming, denying that this can be happening. His struggles are no match for the chains, or the hard, corded arm that snakes around, holding him immobile.

"Here you are, hard as nails for your baby brother." The hot breath in his ear makes Dean swallow back a moan. "After I beat the hell out of you, you're still aching for me aren't you."

"Not you… impostor, you're just a stupid fairy with delusions of gradure."

Dean's pants are roughly shoved down around his ankles, and then it's there, Sam's cock, unbelievably hot and hard rutting between the cheeks of his ass. "Are you trying to make me angry?" Sam's teeth bite down on Dean's shoulder and don't stop until he's drawing blood. 

"Do you want me to be mean, I can do that… Let's be really mean. Did you know Sam blames you a little bit for his obsession, his lust for you."

Dean shakes his head, trying to deny one of his darkest fears, that somehow Sam always knew, no matter how hard he'd tried to quash the need, lust, love… Somehow Sam knew.

"He wonders if you hadn't been such a good big brother, his protector, his hero, if you hadn't been so awesome…"

Dean winces at the word.

"Sam wonders if he might have turned out if you weren't so beautiful… Would he not have to bite his lip to keep from calling out the wrong name anytime he took a girl to bed." 

Dean wishes the bastard would just kill him already.

Sam's hand reaches around and grips his cock, Dean's head falls against Sam's chest and he wills himself not to thrust into his brother's hand.

Dean's breath hitches, as the head of Sam's cock, slick with precum lines up with his entrance. There's no fucking way this is going to work, not without giving Dean some serious internal injuries.

"Please, no. Please, stop."

A lick across a lash mark on his back and a low chuckle answer him. "I can take you now, make it brutal, make you bleed for me, I can make it rape…"

Dean can't help the whimper of fear and a tendril of something else.

"But I’d rather not, I don’t like it when they fight. I’d prefer to make it good, make you like it. Kiss me like you’ve dreamed about kissing your little brother, and I’ll make you scream for other reasons. But you'd have to promise to play nice… Give over to the idea that this is Sammy, and I'll do the things he's been fantasizing about for over a decade." Sam gives his head an incredulous shake. "And boy the things Sam want's to do, this kid's got quite an imagination!"

A large screaming part of Dean’s brain want’s to fight it, don’t give the monster what it wants, make it rape. It’d be so much easier for Dean if he could just suffer… but… Overwriting any of his own desires is something written into his DNA - Dean needs to take care of Sammy…

Sammy’s awake in there, he’ll experience the whole thing, remember is when (not if, must be a when) they get out of this insane mess. Sam's sanity will be on a razor's edge after this, if he makes his little brother rape him, hurt him, it’s likely to send the poor kid into the mouth of madness. 

Sam might be okay if he has sex with Dean… Sam will be destroyed if he knows he raped him.

When he thinks about it that way, it's an easy choice. "Kiss me, Sammy."

Dean tries not to wince at the beatific smile on Sam's face. "I knew you'd see it my way."

Sam circles to face Dean and slowly sinks to his knees. His brother's breath on his cock makes it throb painfully. 

His baby brother. Fuck. If this is screwing with his head, he can't imagine what it's doing to his brother, trapped, playing his part in this fucked up game. Dean has to let him know.

"Sammy, I'm talking to you-"

His best big brother voice.

"Listen up kid - I know you're trapped in there. I want this to easiest for all of us, but I also need you to know-"

Dean tries not to get distracted by the fact that, jesus fucking christ Sam's kneeling and breathing on his cock. In any other world that would be awesome. 

"I love you."

The demon below him hisses, and Dean's a little worried about making this speech with those angry teeth so close to his cock. But he's got one shot at this, and it's gotta be now. Focus on the hunter-brain - focus on the fact that having Sam on his knees might be the one time he can get the upper hand.

"Nothing that happened here today is any of your doing, nothing to forgive, cause it's not you. I still love you…"

Dean uses every ounce of strength and kicks his legs up around the kneeling form, encircling his neck with iron chains. Hoping like hell the fairy presence will react to being encircled with cold iron. 

Sam rears up, trying to dislodge him but this only suits Dean's purposes. Climbing his mountain of a brother like some sort of crazy rodeo horse, Dean manages to unhook the wrist bindings from the bar above. 

Wrestling with Sam is never easy, but Dean is desperate and the thing wearing the Sam-suit doesn’t have their skills - within seconds has managed to wrap his manacled wrists around his brother's throat.

"Shhh, it's okay Sam, I've got you." He pets his little brother's hair, just like when they were kids, trying to get the giant lout to sleep. "I love you." The kicks become less frantic beneath him. "I've loved you forever. You're not a freak, or a pervert, at least not any more than I am…" Dean chuckles bitterly as he feels the dam break. "It's pretty fucked up that we had to get here for either of us to admit it." The slowing has almost stopped. "But I love you, Sammy."

The kicking stops and before Dean can even start an invocation, he sees a small trail of purple smoke sullenly wind it's way back to a swan boat. Dean could swear it looks like the smoke gives him the finger as it retreats.

Dean allows himself the luxury of collapsing against his unconscious brother.

Well, first Dean burns that evil fucking swan boat, does this incantation to send the creature to hell, adds some holy water to make sure it worked… then allows the collapsing. 

After all, he is his father’s son.

 

_____________

 

By some miracle, Dean manages to get Sam manhandled from the tunnel of love and to Impala without too many stares.

Perhaps they could be mistaken for a fucked up sideshow act, Gigantor the unconscious, and his partner the shirtless dude who really likes getting beaten up and bleeding on shit.

Sam begins to wake up, and that's a very good thing, because Dean's starting to see black around the edges of his vision. As Sam's eyes flutter open Dean manages to mumble. "You okay to drive without fucking up my ride?"

Sam nods. "Hospital?"

Dean shakes his head, "Motel…" Darkness is closing in. "First Aid…" he slumps against the passenger side door. "Booze…" And he passes out.

 

______________

 

Working on pure adrenaline Sam keeps the accelerator pedal to the floor the entire drive back, tires squealing with every turn. Dean can take a swing at him for abusing his baby later… there just has to be a later. And hopefully Dean won't be too disgusted to ever touch Sam again, even if it is just to throw a punch. (your fault, sick fuck, what you did to him…)

Smell of burnt rubber as the impala screeches into the parking lot. 

Sam throws Dean over his shoulder and bursts through the door. (Not fast enough, not fast enough, gotta save Dean) a litany of self recrimination running through his head. Gently laying his brother's prone form on the crapy motel bed, Sam notices wet drops on his brother's cheeks, realizes they are his own. Fuck. 

Pull it together you stupid idiot. Crying over your brother's bleeding, (your fault, you did that to him!) body isn't going to help anything. Rubbing his nose on his sleeve and choking back more tears, Sam grabs the first aid bag.

Fortunately the Winchester first aid kit is just slightly less well stocked than the average field hospital. And includes a good deal more whiskey. 

Focus Sam. Pretend you’re Dean, be a good soldier, concentrate on the things that you can help heal (don't think about the things you've fucked up beyond repair, that's a much larger and more dangerous list). Sam gently turns Dean onto his stomach, and has to bite down on his lip to keep from crying out. His brother's back is a map of bloody welts (you did that, you sick fuck, you did this to your brother… No stop, that way lies madness.) Sam takes a bottle rotgut whiskey and pours it onto a clean rag.

"I'm sorry." It's meaning so much more than he can possibly express to the unconscious form below.

Dean screams as the alcohol burns, cleansing the open wounds, but Sam won't allow himself the luxury of stopping, of easing his brother's pain, he has to do this.

"Jesus christ, Sam, can a guy at least get a shot of whatever’s lighting me on fire?"

While part of Sam rejoices to hear the deep growl, part of him wishes his brother could have stayed unconscious for the pain that's coming. 

Gritting his teeth, Sam pours Dean a stiff shot from the bottle and puts it in front of him. His big brother downs it without a wince, then double taps it on the bed stand, meaning unmistakable. Sam gives an exasperated sigh, but dutifully pours another. There's a sigh and Dean relaxes into the bed. "Thanks."

Sam tries not to flinch at the words. How can Dean thank his torturer, his rapist, his perverted sick little brother after the things he's done. No, don't' think, just fix Dean, he can fall into self loathing after Dean is patched up.

"Dean, I know having me touch you is the last thing on earth you want right now…" (or ever again) "But please man, I need to get these stitched up, okay?"

Dean doesn't say anything, just looks straight ahead and nods. (See, he can't even look at you, monster, and who'd ever blame him.)

Sam quietly and efficiently goes to work, antibiotics, medical glue, stitches, more antibiotic ointment, gauze, tape… extra booze to disinfect the bite wounds because Sam knows how many germs there are in the human mouth (and now he also knows the taste of Dean in his mouth, knows the taste of Dean’s blood as he bites… NO don't think about it.) Biting back a sob, Sam soothes balm onto the shallower cuts, memories of the harm that hand inflicted so recently unwillingly replayed with every touch. (monster, monster, he'll never forgive you)

When he's done, Sam practically leaps off the bed. "Turn over, let's see if there's anything you can't get to on your own." He tries for professional detachment, but he's pretty sure he just sounds like an asshole.

Wincing, Dean obeys. Fortunately, the damage to his front is mostly scrapes and bruises. "I think I've got these, Sam, it's okay."

Sam tries not to flinch at the words, of course Dean doesn't want him touching him (sick, rapist, torturer, sadist…) "Okay, I'll be in the kitchen, give you some… space."

Sam tries not to let the tears flow when Dean doesn't call him back, when Dean doesn't tell him it's going to be okay and that they're still brothers. 

Sam fails.

____________

 

After Sam flees to the kitchen, Dean washes off the rest of the blood in the bathroom. He watches the water in the sink go from red, to pink, to clear. If only the words (lies?) falling from that monster’s mouth were as easy to wash from his brain. 

Dean is desperately trying not to think about what's coming next. He's not good at introspection, or talking. 

Dean is a simple man, he's a hunter, and a brother, and his father's son. Any other roles he's tried have been abject failures. 

He loves his brother, his car, ganking monsters, booze, getting laid, and… and…. And he's IN love with his little brother. 

That last one was always easy to ignore when he thought it was one sided. He's a simple man, Dean Winchester has never considered putting his dick where it wasn’t wanted or didn’t belong. Sam was #1 in that category, so it was easy to compartmentalize. 

But now, it's all mixed up in his head. Guilt, lust, shame, love. Fuck. He needs another drink. And pants.

In the bedroom, he snags a pair of jeans and pours a stiff shot of whiskey. The warmth spreads and eases the least of the physical aches. He pours another. And then one for Sam. Dean takes a sip off Sam's glass before going to check on him in the kitchen - it's for Sam's own good. Kid can't hold is liquor for shit.

Dean opens the door and finds an empty room.

Well that's not good.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of movement; Sam is trying to fold himself into a very small ball in the corner, rocking back and forth.

Oh shit.

Dean would run to embrace Sam, tell him everything's going to be okay. He would do that in a heartbeat... 

Except, Sam has his finger on the trigger of Dean’s favorite glock, which is pointed under his chin. Tilted up, just like dad taught them. 

He hears dad's voice in his head when explaining what to do if you ever got turned by a monster. 'If you're gonna go out, do it right, first shot. Don’t make another hunter put you down if you can do it yourself.'

"Sammy…" Dean speaks softly, like trying to coax a feral dog.

Sharp hazel eyes, bright with unshed tears look straight ahead, unseeing.

"Sammy, talk to me, you don't want to do this."

Tears fall.

"Sammy, I know you think you do. But please… please little brother… I don't want to go back to hell."

Sam's brow furrows, confused, the words have penetrated whatever fog his little brother is in.

"Let's think this through, kiddo. What's going to happen if you pull that trigger?"

Dean approaches slowly. "You know for a fact that I will be at a crossroads chatting up a demon before your corpse cools."

Sam shakes his head, trying to make a lie of the truth.

"We both know it." Dean sits on the floor, inches away, and pushes one of the glasses amber liquid toward his brother. "Now I promise you Sam, I will make those sons of bitches deal to bring you back." Dean slams his shot, letting the heat color his words. "I won't ask for 10 years, not one year, not a god damn day."

"No." Rasping words torn for a throat worn by sobs.

"Yes, I guarantee Sam. I will have them put me in a Cas proof box. I will be in hell before you take your first breath, and I'll be there forever." Dean's being intentionally cruel, but needs to get through to his brother. "You'll be alone Sam. You'll know I'm in hell and YOU sent me there. Is that what you want?"

The gun slips to the floor with a thud.

"Good boy, Sammy. Now drink this god awful whiskey and man the fuck up." As far as emotional speeches go, Dean thinks it's been one of his better ones.

Sam slams the amber liquid, trying not to blanch at the burn.

Dean refills both glasses. "Okay Sam, here's the deal. We are going to talk this shit out. It's not gonna be a chick flick conversation, cause, you know - whiskey."

Sam manages a pained laugh.

"We've gotta sort out the shit that went down today." As much as Dean might prefer do just about anything else.

“Sort it out? I beat you half to death Dean… I practically raped you!” The words aren’t quite a scream, but it’s close. Sam’s eyes shine with misery and shame.

Dean watches the torment twist his brother’s face. Sammy’s always been such a beautiful martyr. No one wears emotional agony as beautifully as his little brother.

Sam seems to fall in on him self, a whispered litany of self-hatred. “Monster, freak, abomination, unclean,… monster, twisted, wrong…”

Dean winces as he thinks of all the times he’s called his brother a monster, a freak over the last decade. “Sammy, NO! You are NOT any of those things, never say that.” The words are torn from his throat, desperate.

Arms encircle Sam’s waist, as he tries to escape the embrace, but Dean’s strong grasp won’t allow it. Can’t let his Sammy go, not now, not ever. “Shhh, I’ve got you baby boy.” The old nickname only makes Sam sob harder.

“You should hate me, hit me, leave… after what I’ve said… after what I’ve done…”

Dean’s never been a man of many words, he prefers actions, so he goes with his instincts. He takes Sam’s face in his hands and gently, but firmly brings their lips together.

As kisses go, it’s kind of a mess. 

Because Sam mouth opens under his like he wants to swallow Dean whole, while pushing him away and crawling back against the wall. 

“No, no Dean, you don’t do this. Don’t try to take care of me by giving me what I want-“

Dean always secretly suspected he was really the smart one in the family. And here’s the proof, cause the kid’s obviously a fucking idiot.

“You WERE awake in there, listening in the whole time, right?”

A miserable nod.

“Look moron, I got hit with a truth spell. Do you remember what I said back there? About wanting you since you were 16?”

Sam raises a trembling hand to Dean’s back, ghosting along the scars old and new. “The beating… The belt… What I did… just like dad… I’m so sorry.” Sam’s eyes harden with rage. “I’d of killed him… I swear to you Dean, if I’ve known what he did to you I’d of ganked the bastard myself.” 

A different heat fills his eyes and Dean can barely breathe as Sam whispers. “Then I’d have made you scream my name as I fucked you against his pyre.’

Dean hears the, lust, rage and murderous truth behind the words. 

“Hey, kid, simmer down. Dad was a son of a bitch and was never gonna be a candidate for ‘father of the year’, but he went to hell for me, and that gives him a clean slate in my book, okay?”

The cold, curt nod says very clearly that while he understands Dean’s reasoning, Sam’s book still looks a hell of a lot different.

“And kiddo, you kinda missed the point…” Dean’s hand traces down Sam’s neck, down his arm and guides his hand to Dean’s chest, guiding the huge hand across his heart, splaying over the tattoo that’s branded them soul deep. “I’m yours, all of me.”

Sam’s breath hitches, something stirs in his gut, dangerous and damming.

It feels suspiciously like hope. Sam tries to tamp the feeling down ruthlessly, even as his free hand reaches up to caress his brother’s cheek.

“We can’t.” The words are rough unwilling in his throat. “Dean… It’s not right-“

“Says who?” Dean leans into Sam’s caress, nipping at his thumb, rejoicing and the small, strangled, wanton sound his brothers makes.

“Pretty much every law of god and man…” Sam tries to take his hand from Dean’s chest, but it’s stopped by an iron grip, almost bruising in it’s insistence. 

“Fuck that.” Sam’s eyes widen at the sudden anger in his brother’s voice. “Since we have we followed the laws of heaven or earth? Since when have we ever been controlled by arbitrary and stupid rules we know didn’t apply to us?”

Dean roughly shoves Sam’s hand down the front of his sweatpants, forcing Sam’s hand across the aching hardness. Smiling at the gasp it forces from his brother’s lips.

“You don’t want this fine. It’s too much for you, fine. Run away.” Sam starts to shake his head in denial, but Dean’s past caring. “You’ve run from this before baby brother. It’s what you’re good at.” 

Whimpers of desire and denial. 

Dean bites his lip as Sam’s hand gently, tentatively moves against Dean. “But don’t you dare give some shitty excuse about it being ‘wrong’. This…” 

Dean crawls across Sam’s lap, forcing the younger man to look at him. “This is right. You’re not a monster or an abomination. This is pure. It’s you and me Sammy. It’s not a sin, it’s pure, it’s a fucking holy communion.” 

Something breaks in Sam. All the walls and excuses fall crumbling down at his feet, and he’s laid bare, every part of him, every atom. He let’s Dean see it all in his eyes as Sam gently (and after everything he’s done, it must be gently and hesitantly) leans in to kiss his brother.

Sam kisses like a question. Please, Dean, want you, love you, need you, pleasepleaseplease, tell me this is okay, tell me I’m forgiven.

Dean kisses like an answer. Yes. 

(Dean’s always been a man of fewer words)

And suddenly a switch is flipped. Now it’s Sam who’s demanding more, opening his mouth and forcing his tongue against his brother’s lips. Sam’s hands wrap around Dean’s ass forcing him down on his erection.

Dean throws back his head in a gasp, nearly coming from the friction of his against his brother’s (slightly alarming large) erection.

Sam takes advantage of the new expanse of skin and feasts on Dean’s neck, kissing and nipping his way over every inch.

Dean can tell Sam is holding back. Knows he wants to bite, knows Sam’s hands now pulling Dean’s pants off don’t shake from nerves, but from trying to control the desperate desire to crush Dean to him. Afraid to scare Dean, afraid to hurt him.

Stupid kid.

Dean clenches his teeth as Sam’s lowers his head, kissing the head of Dean’s cock.

Dean want’s it. Want’s Sam’s mouth, want’s to feel that stupid girly hair he’ll never admit he loves brushing against his thighs… want’s it so badly it nearly kills him to have to say. “No.”

Sam looks up, confusion, hurt and worry clear on that he’s done something wrong. A stricken fear that he’s reminding Dean of their encounter at the warehouse.

“It’s okay kiddo.” Dean pulls Sam to his knees till they’re at eye level (mostly, cause he’s not a gigantic mutant like his little brother).

“Its just that if you do that, I’m gonna come down your throat in about 3 seconds.”

Sam makes a needy keening sound.

“And you can do that… tonight. I promise I’ll let you map out every inch of me with your fingers and your lips… and I’m gonna do the same to you. I’m going to spend hours letting you fuck my face, it’s going to be slow, and awesome.”

Sam’s already painfully engorged erection jerks at the thought.

“But not right now…” Dean guides Sam’s hand to his erection, till the fingers are dripping with the copious amount of pre-come he finds there. “I want you to fuck me Sam, and I don’t want you holding back, not for one second.”

The sound Sam makes is barely human.

Dean’s cock throbs in response. “I want you to take me Sam, I’m not made of glass. I give you permission, I don’t want you to be gentle, make me come on your cock, little brother.”

And just like that his kid brother is gone, replaced by some feral beast. Fingers tangle roughly in Deans hair as Sam tries to find purchase, to bend his neck so Sam’s teeth can sink into the soft skin below. 

He guides Sam’s mouth to the bite mark on his neck, opens the wound and presses Sam’s lips to the bleeding flesh. They fall to the floor in a tangle of limbs, Sam between his legs, cock weeping with want as he pushes into his brother.

“This is my flesh, this is my blood.” He doesn’t know where the words come from, only that they are right. “Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. Holy communion, Sammy. Pure."

Sam’s been unleashed. 

If Dean had any sense of self preservation, he should be deeply concerned. But then again, no one ever accused Dean of having an overdeveloped dose of common sense.

Dean back bows at the spike of pleasure/pain as he is roughly, worshipfully fucked into the carpet by his brother. The slap of flesh against flesh an obscene soundtrack to beautifully brutal fucking.

It’s the best thing Dean’s ever experienced, and from the rough growls and curses falling from his baby brother’s mouth the feeling is definitely mutual.

It doesn’t last long, the need is too great, years of longing and lust push them both past the edge. Sam’s oversized hand caresses Dean’s cock with a reverence in stark counterpoint to the rough fucking of his ass. 

“Love you, god Dean, god, I’m gonna…”

Dean just moans in response and lifts his hips to allow Sam in even deeper, gasping in pleasure as Sam’s thrusts loose any semblance of control. Frantic, soul shattering thrusts – Dean can’t stop the orgasm as it is ripped from him, clenching hard on his brothers cock, Sam falls with him, spending deep inside Dean as his big brother paints them both with ropes of come.

They lie together, sticky with sweat, blood, come and tears. It should be disgusting, but it’s not, it’s a holy communion.

 

After that it just works, in the same dysfunctional, strange and wonderful way the boys have always worked.

They knew, somehow they both just knew how it was going to be. 

Despite Dean’s alpha-male, macho, leader instincts in the field… he’d yield in the bedroom. Love means protection to Dean, it’s who he is.

Despite Sam’s shy public persona, the blushes, the hunched shoulders… In the bedroom, Sam is the dominant one, always pushing needing more. Sam is desperate for Dean in a way that should scare any sane person.

In the day world, Dean wants to lock down Sam, keep his safe from the nightmares; the terrors and temptations fate keeps throwing their way.

In the night world, Sam wants to lock up Dean, own him, mind body and soul. It doesn’t matter that he already does, he needs to remind himself of that, needs to remind Dean as well.

It’s codependent, wrong, and fucked up beyond words. 

But for them it’s perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Um, so this is my first try at writing Supernatural fanfic, I'm new to the fandom, so I'm a little intimidated by the sheer amount of talent and passion everyone seems to have. 
> 
> Anyway, just wanted to say thanks for reading and I'd love to know what you think. Also, I know good beta's are like unicorns, but I'd love to find one if anyone would like to read some more of my work before I throw it to the wolves :)


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